


To Hell and Back For Him

by Takada_Saiko



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Gen, Old West, Pre-Curse, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takada_Saiko/pseuds/Takada_Saiko
Summary: Robert Svane rides to Purgatory after trying to convince Doc Holliday to help their friend take down the demon sheriff Clootie.





	To Hell and Back For Him

**To Hell and Back For Him**

He had ridden hard the whole way, the urgency of the situation weighing on him. Wyatt had asked him to bring Doc Holliday and he'd failed him. It wasn't like he could have forced Holliday to come. Robert had stayed in town for nearly three days trying to get a word in to him and wasting precious time doing so. The man was stubborn and drunk, never a good combination even for just a civil conversation, but for a fight? No. There had been no reason to waste another day trying to pry a more positive answer from the man. He'd already lost enough time and the situation in Purgatory was desperate from what his friend had said.

He found Wyatt at a saloon waiting for the padre that had initially contacted him about the issue with the sheriff. Robert moved to join him at the table and waved off the offer of a drink as he passed by the bar. Wyatt was bent over some notes of some sort, but looked up as he approached and his expression lightened just a little. "Robert, glad you made it," he greeted, reaching a hand out to him.

"Sorry it took so long," the other man answered and shook his hand before sitting with him. "Spoken to the padre yet?"

"He's on his way. I take it you couldn't find Doc?"

"Oh, I found him." Robert cleared his throat, finding Wyatt's gaze steadily on him, trying to gauge the reaction.

Finally Wyatt sighed. "He was too ill to come then."

"Or too drunk."

The lawman laughed, the sound surprising Robert a little. "That never stopped him before." His mirth faded as quickly as it'd come as he glanced towards the door where the priest was entering. He nodded to the bartender and stopped there just a moment before continuing over to the table. Wyatt tipped his hat. "Padre."

"Deputy Marshal."

"Robert just brought word from Doc that he won't be making it. I left him pretty sick, but it was worth a shot."

"You a gunslinger too, Robert?" the padre asked and Robert cracked a very small smile in response.

"Not like Wyatt, but I do know where the trigger is."

That pulled a chuckle from the old priest and he thanked the woman who delivered his drink over.

"Now, I understand that Sheriff Clootie has been a terror on this town," Wyatt prompted. "In your letter you called him-"

"A demon," the padre cut him off, his voice flat and serious. "And I meant it."

"Ain't no such thing as demons, Padre."

"There are, Marshal. Demons and angels are as real as you and me. Clootie's three wives are nearly as dangerous as he is, his favourite being the witch of the three, but the other two…." He shuddered and his gaze shifted from Wyatt over to Robert who was watching him carefully, keeping his own thoughts carefully concealed behind an even expression. He'd read the letters that had been written and he knew Wyatt's reservations. He shared many of them. Rarely did a person cry demon and it be true, but that didn't mean that they didn't exist. He was certain angels did.

Wyatt didn't look convinced. He shook his head and stood. "Well, demon or man, he's not above the law. It's time we met and settled this."

"No time like the present," the padre said as he took a long drink of his whisky.

It was like he knew what was about to happen, and as the doors to the saloon kicked open and a chill swept through the establishment Robert found himself wondering if he did. An unnatural sort of hush fell over the place and all eyes turned to the man that entered. He was tall and imposing, his sheriff's badge shined and prominent for all to see. His boots hit the wooden floor of the saloon hard, the sound echoing over the silence he brought with him. He was alone, but there didn't seem to be a person beyond their own table that didn't tremble at the sight of him.

"Padre," Sheriff Clootie called out, "I see you invited friends."

"Evenin'," Wyatt greeted, straightening at his place by the table. Robert and the padre remained in their seats, Robert watching the situation carefully. He might not be a gunslinger like Wyatt or Doc, but he would do whatever he needed to to help his friend. "I'm Deputy Marshal Wyatt Earp, US Marshals. There've been some-"

"Get." It was a single word, but as soon as it left the sheriff's lips every last person in the saloon - barkeeper included - ran over each other trying to leave. Robert watched them scurry out like rabbits running from a dog and he thought he saw the sheriff's eyes flash red momentarily, a strange sort of smile tilting his lips. "Now what were you saying, Marshal?"

It was an intimidation tactic, and one that didn't work on Wyatt. Doc Holliday had been right about one thing at the very least: Wyatt never _appeared_ upset. That didn't mean that Robert didn't see the signs that the lawman knew that this wouldn't be easy. It was in the way his eyes narrowed as Clootie spoke and how his left hand brushed back his coat casually as if he were readying himself for the worst situation and giving himself easy access to Peacemaker there. Robert found himself joining Wyatt on his feet, ready for whatever would come next.

Or he thought he was.

Clootie's laugh echoed through the empty saloon, causing Wyatt to frown. "You're facing some serious charges, Sheriff. Most wouldn't find that funny."

"This is plenty funny," Clootie chuckled, still smirking. "I heard you were coming, Deputy Marshal, but I had expected a bit more of a fight. Instead of your usual crowd you show up with this pup at your feet, desperate for a little of the great Wyatt Earp's attention. You've never even killed a man, have you? What good do you think you're going to do against me?"

Robert saw it again, that flash of red, and this time the sheriff flicked his wrist. A gust of wind hit them so hard that it took them up and off their feet as if someone had grabbed them by the front of their lapels and sent them stumbling. Robert hit hard, crashing into and over a chair and he grimaced at the landing.

Wyatt was back on his feet quicker, gun drawn and shots fired, only clipping the man whose eyes were glowing dangerously as he moved at an unnatural speed. The sight was enough to cause Robert to freeze for just half a beat before he pulled his own weapon, but he didn't get a chance to fire before it was pulled from his hand and Clootie turned a terrible snarl in him.

There was no questioning it now. The evil was evident, painted across those dark red eyes and the unearthly powers that flowed from him. He extended his hand, fingers outstretched, and Robert was being dragged up. His feet dangled, toes barely touching the wood floor as an invisible hand wrapped around his throat, choking off his airway and he found there was no way to fight it. Nothing was there, yet it was.

" _Robert_!" Wyatt called out and he was being dragged forward until he was face to face with the demon.

"So the pet means something," Clootie murmured. "I do have to wonder what the infamous Wyatt Earp sees in you."

The grip had loosened enough that he could take shallow breaths and fighting was useless, so he leveled his best glare. "I've been told I have a quick wit," he managed and the demon chuckled.

"A wit won't shield you," he warned. "But a friend? A friend makes quite the shield. Gun down, Deputy Marshal. Humans really are such fragile creatures. I'd hate to break him." There was a sudden jolt of pain and Robert tried to swallow the cry that escaped him, his back arching at it tore through him. He remained suspended, Clootie spinning him around so that Wyatt could see the pain played out across his features.

He forced his blue eyes open, meeting Wyatt's gaze. There was disappointment there, an understanding that things were not turning out as expect and…. that they would have if it had been Doc Holliday at his side instead of Robert Svane. Robert was a fine, loyal friend, but he wasn't useful like this. He wasn't sure what had ever made him think that he could be. He had only gotten in the way.

"Alright," Wyatt said at last, lowering his weapon a little.

Blue eyes closed briefly as he heard Clootie make a triumphant sound behind him. This was bigger than him. Bigger than that moment. If they didn't do something here and now, more innocent people would die. He would _not_ be the reason they were hurt. "Wyatt, take the shot."

"Robert…"

Clootie was laughing now, entertained by it. "It sounds brave when you know he won't."

Blue eyes snapped open again, catching Wyatt's gaze and holding it. Willing his friend to hear him, to do it. "Take it."

It all seemed to happen at once. The small nod, Wyatt raising his gun, and the shot going off. The bullet tore through Robert, into his left shoulder through his chest and out the back, and suddenly he was tumbling to the floor, the demon releasing him.

He laid there a long moment before the pain hit, and it hit hard. Robert gasped as he curled around himself as he tried to gain his bearings and think through the it. He felt hands on him and he started to fight until he heard Wyatt's calming tones. "Easy, friend. I've got you."

He looked up, finding Wyatt on the floor with him, easing him up just a little and he found the change in position helped lessen the pain just a little, making it easier to breathe. "Did you-?"

"We got him. It struck him in the heart. He's not long for this world."

Robert blinked hard, hearing Clootie cursing and hissing out some sort of threat he couldn't make out. He focused in on his friend. "Good."

"You're going to be just fine, Robert. Padre is fetching the physician and you'll be whole in no time."

His vision was blurring, but he could still see the hints of worry played out across his friend's face. "Wyatt?" The other man didn't answer, distracted by something, and Robert winced as a fresh wave of pain stole his breath from him. "I'm sorry. I meant to help you and I… got in the way."

That pulled him around just a little, at least enough to offer the injured man a thin smile. "Nonsense. What other friend do I have brave enough to do what you did? Thank you, Robert. I…. I'm going to make this right. Somehow, I'm going to make this right."

Robert loosed a long breath in the form of a sigh, desperately trying to focus on the words, but he was losing the fight with consciousness. Wyatt was there, though, and he wasn't angry with him. Somehow, he almost seemed proud of him, and that made it worth the pain.

* * *

Robert woke to voices. At first they sounded like they were down a long tunnel, distant and garbled, but as he broke the final layer of consciousness he finally made the padre that he and Wyatt had come to see. He shifted, grimacing hard at the painful reminder that he'd taken a bullet to the chest…. He wasn't sure how long ago.

"I wouldn't move too much," the padre said and Robert could smell the alcohol on his breath. Juan Carlos. He wasn't sure that he'd ever given him his name directly, but it had been in the letters that Wyatt had received. Father Juan Carlos.

"Wyatt," Robert choked the name out, his throat dry and painful.

Juan Carlos motioned for him to stay put for a moment before grabbing a glass with what looked like water in it from the bedside table. "Take it easy, Robert. You've been sleeping for a couple of days. Wyatt couldn't wait."

"What?"

"Told me to tell you that he'd gone looking for an answer he thought John Henry had. The doctor assured him that with rest and treatment you have a good chance of pulling through."

"Do I?"

"I imagine so. You seem like the stubborn sort."

"Padre, we need to go. They will find a way to bring him back if we don't seal him in the ground. We've waited too long."

Robert squinted at the new voice from the door, realizing for the first time that his glasses weren't perched on his nose, and the padre reached for those as well, fitting them there. A woman at the door came into focus. Blonde and beautiful, but there was something about her that didn't set well with him. Nothing about Purgatory set well with him anymore. The sooner he could get out of here, the better.

"You said we need three, and the town's torn up enough without finding someone to help with that."

"He can."

"The doctor said he needs rest."

"I'm right here," Robert snapped. "Don't talk around me like I'm not. What can I do?"

The woman stepped forward, her gaze studying him carefully. "You were with Wyatt Earp? Helped him to kill my husband?"

One of Clootie's wives. The witch, Robert thought. He set his jaw. "I did my part."

"Then do the next. Help us keep him in the ground."

Blue eyes shifted to look at the priest, the unasked question hanging in the air and Juan Carlos nodded. "We can't hold the other two without her help."

"It's in my best interest to make sure all three never come back here. Wyatt's bullet never should have been able to kill him, but I slipped him something that made him vulnerable. If he comes back, I'm a dead woman."

Robert nodded solemnly, shifting again until he was able to sit. It hurt like hell, but he thought that if he could get on his feet he'd be alright. "What is it you need me to do?"

"I need you to be bait," Constance Clootie said, her voice far sweeter than her words. "They'll smell the blood on you and they'll come. We'll be ready for them. Do this, help us secure them and my demon husband, and they won't be able to go after your dear friend Wyatt. He might even escape with his life."

"Robert," Juan Carlos warned, but he shook his head.

He'd told Doc Holliday that he'd be willing to ride to hell and back for Wyatt, and he would. He'd be willing to die for the man if need be, and right now, Wyatt needed him to make sure that he remained outside of the demon's grasp. "I'll rest when it's done."

* * *

Notes: I have such mixed feelings about Wyatt. I want to hope that there was more to him than fleeing the curse and then trying to track down Doc while Robert lay dying. Maybe he went looking for Doc because he'd known about the demon and Wyatt hoped he had an answer for him? One can hope. I also hope we get more information (and flashbacks!) in the third season. I'd love to see Wyatt and Robert flashbacks and get a better feel for that friendship. 

Hope you guys enjoyed this one. It's a bit longer than usual.


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